


Varicella

by toooldtobeonhere



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Molly to the rescue, Semi-naked Sherlock, Sick Sherlock, Suggestive Themes, sfw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 03:38:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5076316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toooldtobeonhere/pseuds/toooldtobeonhere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock gets chicken pox.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Varicella

**Author's Note:**

> So i’m stuck at home with a chicken pox riddled toddler - so I have to pass the time somehow :) Have some T rated - suggestive but SFW - sherlolly.
> 
> Edit: I know that chicken pox in adults is much worse than in children (it often requires antiviral drugs). I'm not making light of it. I'm just writing some silly fluff about fictional characters being cute (hopefully!) 
> 
> Disclaimers: I don't own these characters. Not Beta'd - sorry for any mistakes.

Molly noticed it as soon as he walked in. His normally marble-esque face sported an angry red spot just above his eyebrow. She was secretly pleased; he was a real boy after all! Being no stranger to periods of adult acne herself, she kept her mouth shut. But by mid-afternoon two more had appeared.

“What Molly? I can feel you watching me” Sherlock sighed not looking from the microscope, absentmindedly scratching his cheek.

Molly frowned and coughed “em…Sherlock….have you seen your face?” she stuttered.

Rolling his eyes, Sherlock turned to see his reflection in the glass of the fume cupboard behind him. “So, I’ve got a couple of spots” he said turning back.

Molly stood from her seat on the other side of the bench and approached him. Looking down slightly at his seated form, she reached out and brushed his hair back from his forehead. Two more spots came into view.

“Have you ever had chicken pox?” she asked.

Sherlock sat stock still. He was slightly taken aback by her boldness; she still had her fingers in his hair and her palm pressed to his head. Her other hand had come to rest on his shoulder. He stared into her slightly scrunched face (the words  _cute_  and  _adorable_  floated around her unbidden).

“You’d have to ask my mother” he said defensively, pulling away slightly. Her nails gently scraped his scalp and he struggled to contain a shudder.

Molly continued to stand next to him. “You don’t remember having it?”

“I’ve probably deleted it. Childhood ailments aren’t exactly pertinent information” he added sarcastically turning back to the microscope, but not before he scratched his neck.

“They really look like vesicles” said Molly ignoring his acerbic tone. “Have you been anywhere near John or Mary recently?”

“Not since last week, why?”

“Chicken pox can be very dangerous for pregnant women” Molly said.

Sherlock turned at her concerned tone. He didn’t care too much for his own welfare but he wouldn’t knowingly put anyone else in danger. He nodded thoughtfully and scratched his face.

“Don’t scratch!” yelled Molly smacking his hand away. “I think you should go home Sherlock – I don’t think you should be in the lab if you’re sick.” 

He sighed dramatically, but (as usual) did what Molly asked standing to fetch his coat, Molly added, “Can Mrs Hudson look after you?”

“Please Molly” Sherlock sighed mockingly, “toddlers get chicken pox, I think I’ll survive.” With that Sherlock strutted out. Molly smiled as she watched him disappear down the corridor, while scratching his head.

* * *

Molly was nearing the end of her shift when her mobile vibrated in her lab coat pocket.

_Come to Baker St. NOW – SH_

Molly hit the call back key immediately; her heart thundering in her chest. Thankfully he picked up almost instantly.

“Molly” came a small voice.

“Sherlock!? Are you ok?” Molly breathed.

“Mrs Hudson’s at her sisters and…I… don’t…” he trailed off.

Molly smiled and finished his sentence off for him “…feel well? Do you want me to come over?”

“Yes, please” came a little voice.

“I’ll be 20 minutes” replied Molly.

* * *

“You're four minutes late” said the lump on the sofa.

“I stopped off for supplies” said Molly holding up two bags; one from Boots and one from the Chinese around the corner, while taking off her coat.

Sherlock poked his head out and watched Molly disappear into the kitchen. “Do you want some spring rolls?” she called.

“No” he replied, sitting up from his blanket cocoon. Molly came back with a plate of spring rolls.

“Jesus Sherlock” she gasped as the couple of spots had turned into dozens in the interim few hours; he was covered in them.

Molly tried not to smile but the arrogant sod looked very sweet and sorry for himself sitting in a sweaty grey t-shirt, hugging a blanket. His normally immaculate hair was fluffy and in disarray.

Placing the plate on the coffee table, she approached him and sat gently next to him. Molly placed her hand on his forehead – but the sheen of perspiration on his face told her already he’d have a fever.

“You’re burning up Sherlock. Do you want me to run you a bath?”

He nodded affirmatively. Molly stood and handed him the plate “Eat” she commanded, heading to the bathroom.

“Yes Doctor” he smirked.

Molly sat on the edge of the bath, swirling her hands in the foamy water, when she heard him padding in, still wrapped in a blanket. He slumped down heavily on the closed toilet seat.

“Will you be ok by yourself?” Molly asked not looking at him. She wasn’t sure what she wanted his answer to be.

“I’ll be fine” he said standing and shrugging off the blanket.

“I’ll just be outside then”. She pulled the door almost closed but left it open a crack so she could hear him. As she pottered about the kitchen – finishing off her dinner and attempting to make a dent in the mountain of dishes in the sink. She listened to his muffled sighs and the slosh of the water as he moved around. She tried (and failed) not to picture the scene just a few feet away.

Molly turned at the creak of the door to see a sheepish looking Sherlock stood with a towel slung low on his hips. The smattering of spots across his torso did not mar how beautiful she thought he was. Molly was unsure how long she’d been staring at him but he coughed gently and she came out of her reverie. Turning back to the table to hide her blush, she said “oh I picked calamine lotion up and some pain killers and anti-histamine for the itching”. Molly rummaged through the bag “I wasn’t sure what you had.” She turned, this time avoiding his gaze and dropped the items in is arms.

“Thanks” he mumbled. I must look awful he thought, she can’t even look at me. He headed to his room. Sitting on the edge of his bed he swallowed a handful of pills. He felt terrible.  _How do kids cope with this?!_  he thought and, not for the first time, Sherlock lamented his friendless childhood, even if it was just for the heard immunity. Sitting holding the bottle, he realised he had no idea what he was supposed to do. “Molly” he called.

Knocking gently, Molly pushed open the door. “You ok?” she asked.

“Can you…help?”

“Sure” she smiled before disappearing into the bathroom. He listened to her rummaging through the drawers before she came back in with a bag of cotton wool he didn’t even know was there.

Molly sat next to him on the bed; so close that their thighs touched. Tipping the bottle up onto the pad she brought it up to his face, while simultaneously brushing his damp curls off his face. The liquid felt nice and he closed his eyes (which also meant he didn’t have to stare into her eyes).

Molly patted the pinkish liquid over his face and was secretly glad he’d shut his eyes. She continued down his neck and she heard him exhale. Pausing, she asked “Too sore?”

“N…no” he replied thickly “just cold”. Molly smiled and continued downwards across his chest and taut stomach. She was pretty sure he could’ve done this part himself but she wasn’t complaining.

Sherlock was concentrating so hard on his breathing and heart rate he didn’t hear her the first time. “What?” he asked suddenly opening his eyes, his voice comically higher than it should have been.

“Can you turn around?” she asked again, meeting his gaze for the first time. The room, was lit just by his bed side lamp, but even this could not have been the cause of such pupil dilatation she wistfully thought.

Unbeknownst to her, Sherlock was thinking the exact same thing. “Eh…yeah, sure” he said, hurriedly pivoting on the bed. He physically moaned when he felt her cool hand lift up the curls on his nape to get at the spots there.

“Sorry” she said, her voice low and sensual all of a sudden. She continued down the plains of his back listening to the ebb and flow of their breathing in the silent room.

“All done” Molly said suddenly as she stood and handed him the bottle “you can do…the rest”, her eyes darting to his towel clad lap. She was gone before he had a chance to say thank you.

Molly was sat on the sofa with a mug of tea – Sherlock’s one on the coffee table in front of her – when he came back. Now dressed in clean PJ bottoms, white t-shirt and navy dressing gown, he smiled awkwardly down at her; his face chalky white in patches. Molly patted the space next to her and when he sat she pulled the blanket across both their laps.

“Feeling better?” she asked.

“Much” he said as she switched the TV on and started to flick through the channels. “You don’t have to stay you know” he added.

“I know” she replied.

Smiling, he laid his head on her shoulder feeling sleepy all of a sudden, he reached up to scratch his face.

“Don’t scratch!” she scolded, taking his hands and holding them in her lap.

Sherlock grinned, “Yes Doctor” he said before closing his eyes and letting the sound of her breathing and the distant TV, lull him to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> How was it?? Leave a comment as I'm lonely stuck in the house :) x


End file.
